


Never Had a Chance

by AlwaysMyChoices



Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: Betrayal, Break Up, Divorce, F/M, Lost Love, Love Triangles, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Break Up, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysMyChoices/pseuds/AlwaysMyChoices
Summary: Six years ago, Drake Walker married Blythe Gardner in a whirlwind that created a perfect storm. Two years ago, Drake walker lost Blythe Gardner, and tonight, they’re face-to-face for the first time…(originally posted on Tumblr by @AlwaysMyChoices)
Relationships: Drake Walker & Main Character (The Royal Romance), Drake Walker/Main Character (The Royal Romance), Liam & Main Character (The Royal Romance), Liam (The Royal Romance)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Never Had a Chance

The palace ballroom formed a kaleidoscope of partygoers, festive nobles and their ornate display of house colors blending together in the candlelight. Each opposing color and carefully placed symbol embodied their various disagreements and positions, but together, they formed a united front that acted as a barrier between their world and Drake Walker. 

His entire life, Drake Walker was a passive observer. He stood in the corner of every party and observed their displays of superiority with disdain. His loyalty bound him to that very spot, present out of friendship but antisocial out of preference. After one too many glasses of whiskey, Drake felt this weird pain in his chest. It had been there since his first day at the palace, but he’d grown so used to ignoring it that he often forgot it was there. Beneath his hatred for the aristocracy, he just wanted to be _one of them_.

And he did.

He became Duke Drake Walker of Valtoria, one of the oldest houses in Cordonia. A national hero married the American Sweetheart, and it took Cordonia by storm. He could still remember the heat of the camera flashes on their wedding day, reporters invading the private moment he’d waited for since the day he met Blythe Gardner.

From the first time their eyes met in that bar in New York City, Drake knew that Blythe was special.

She wasn’t like the women he’d met in Cordonia. She didn’t care about her royal lineage or elevating her social status, and she didn’t write him off as the brooding commoner and didn’t run away when he raised his defenses. She made him laugh and could probably drink him under the table given a chance. Instead of looking down on him, she looked at him like a falling star, a wish for something she thought she’d never find.

But like everything else, she was here for Liam. She left her life in New York to chase the future King of Cordonia and become his wife, but somehow, she fell in love with Drake during the moments in between.

And then she picked him.

When given the opportunity to become a queen, she picked _Drake Walker_.

The press sold the tale as a beautiful love story, and for once, Drake agreed.

“This is too good to be true,” Drake whispered underneath his breath on the night he proposed, watching Blythe sleep in his arms as her engagement ring twinkled back at him.

When he said those words, Drake was full of hope and love. He never could have expected how right he would be…

Their wedding was a whirlwind. Cordonia needed strength, and what better to unite the country than to distract them with the marriage of their favorite national couple? It was vindicating at first. Now a hero and future duke, Drake was marrying the love of his life and unifying a country in the process. Surely, Drake wasn’t just a lowly commoner anymore. That honeymoon bliss didn’t even make it to the wedding.

Soon, they were overwhelmed with external pressure forcing them to conform to the ideal noble couple. Their dream of having an intimate barn wedding was destroyed the moment they opened it up to the public. Slowly, decisions were pulled away one by one until they were just actors in their own ceremony. Without realizing it, they traded their individuality and privacy for the good of Cordonia.

There were nights when they thought about giving it all up. They considered running away to some mountain and eloping in tee shirts and blue jeans, but who were they to deprive Cordonia in the midst of terrorism and uncertainty? Everything was so far out of their hands that they lost their way…

“Is that Drake Walker?” a noble whispered to another, and Drake’s ears burned at the sound.

It had been so long since he’d been heard his name whispered about in the confines of a ballroom, but it was hardly the first time.

Deciding to marry Blythe was the easiest decision he ever made, but the consequences proved to be the greatest challenge he’d ever faced. The media may have loved them as the whiskey-drinking, commoner-turned-noble couple, but the court didn’t share their sentiments. Tasked with uniting a country and running a duchy, Blythe and Walker were forced to rely on court’s opinion. They had to change. They traded jeans for couture and cheap whiskey for vintage champagne. Their parties were formal affairs instead of casual gatherings with friends and a few drinks.

Blythe, like always, rose to the challenge. She engrossed herself in becoming a successful and helpful duchess, and Valtoria prospered under her careful guidance. Even when she wanted to punch a noble and tell them to go to hell, she knew what to say, and Drake watched in awe.

Drake seldom knew what to say. Even when he learned the dances and the jargon, he felt like he was a step behind. Unlike Blythe, the court knew him. They’d seen him in the corner of parties for all of those years, despising them from behind his bottle of whiskey, and they were unlikely to let him in because he was now required to be polite.

At events, they whispered about him and wondered how on earth Drake Walker convinced someone like Blythe Gardner to marry him.

She was the ray of sunshine in the raging storm of their responsibilities. No matter what pressing function faced them, she was his _Gardner_. She was the same waitress from New York he fell in love with, and she loved and supported him through everything. Through every blunder and insult, Drake thought about her and found peace. He would do anything for her, even if it meant losing himself.

The first two years were magical. They were beautiful and special, and Blythe and Drake held onto them with everything they had.

Losing your way isn’t noticeable at first. It’s just a few more inches off the path and then a few more, but once lost, the path becomes less and less defined. Sometimes, the journey meets once more and reunites lovers, but other times, the path just gets farther apart until the fork in the road the two face look nothing alike.

Drake didn’t know when it happened – neither did Blythe for that matter- but it changed. He stopped looking at her and seeing his Gardner. He saw Duchess Blythe Gardner-Walker. She stopped wearing those beat up tennis shoes he liked so much, and she stopped sneaking away from parties to share a flask and tease the other nobles. She wasn’t the waitress full of wanderlust and adventure. She was a duchess with responsibilities and a duchy to promote.

And she stopped looking at him and seeing her Marshmallow. She saw Drake Walker, a man forced into his worst nightmare because he had the unfortunate fate of loving her. He stopped trying to tell those jokes that used to make her laugh at events, and he stopped sharing the intimate secrets that bound them together in the first place. He wasn’t the man who tore down his walls to let her in. He was the reluctant Duke who craved freedom.

They held on so tight their fingers turned white, but they only found rope burns.

Year three began with a fight on New Years’ Eve, Drake and Blythe so caught up in screaming at each other that they missed their New Years’ kiss. Now, they didn’t remember what the fight was about, but they remembered the sinking feeling they both had when they looked around and realized every other couple was sharing a kiss while they were farther apart than ever. The arguments didn’t end either. For months, it felt like they were just a ticking time bomb waiting for the next disagreement.

Blythe would lament that he didn’t support her at court while Drake would complain that he was forever being forced into uncomfortable situations. Blythe would grow tired of his ridicule of the aristocracy and remind him that they were now a part of it, and Drake would scream that they would both always be outsiders. They would yell at each other about the big things like when a family would ever fit into their lives, but they would also bicker about the small things like whether or not they should always drink whiskey when Valtoria was full of lovely wines.

The arguments weren’t the painful part though. They were founded in passion and love after all.

No, it was the resentment that burned, and it was the silence that killed.

That anniversary, they sat across the table from one another and felt like they were staring at strangers. Even when standing next to each other, they were lonely. They longed for the beginning of their relationship, but they never seemed to get it back.

Drake remembered year four with painful accuracy while Blythe found numbness in the ordeal.

The day he moved out was silent. Blythe sat on the bed, watching her husband pack his things, but she didn’t try to stop him. To others, they said that he was going to spend more time at their distillery in Scotland to perfect their new venture into whiskey, but they didn’t say it to each other. They didn’t explain his leaving at all. Instead, they just _knew_.

Gone were the days of following their lover to the airport and declaring their love and commitment. After everything they’d been through, their passionate love affair ended quietly. There was no explosion, just a dull and melancholy fizzle.

The papers arrived on Drake’s doorstep six months later.

It had been two years since Drake Walker formally ended his marriage to Blythe, and it was the first time he’d been back in the palace since.

It was a strange sensation being back here. He was overwhelmed with familiarity for his childhood home, but the memories that were returned were not all happy and youthful. The aristocracy ruined his marriage to the love of his life, and the palace was the pinnacle of the nobility. Even now, he didn’t know how to separate his love from his resentment.

Especially regarding the king…

Liam was his best friend, and nothing could change that. There had always been an inkling of mutual resentment hiding under the surface of their friendship, but it was overpowered by love. Liam longed for Drake’s freedom while Drake secretly wished for Liam’s privilege and skills, but it truly came to the surface when Blythe entered their lives. She was the object of both of their affections, and she picked Drake. They managed to bridge that divide, becoming friends once more, but it was different. As the marriage turned sour, Drake frequently wished he could be more like Liam. Every day, it seemed more and more like Liam had been the right choice, and Drake was just a costly mistake.

Still, seeing Liam forced a brotherly swell of affection to sweep through Drake, and he beamed at his best friend as he worked his way through the party to find him.

“Drake! I didn’t think you’d actually make it!” Liam’s excitement lit up his bright blue eyes, and for a moment, he looked like the kid Drake knew and not the stately king he was today.

“How could I miss it? You’re getting old, Liam. You may not have many more birthday celebrations in you,” Drake joked, earning Liam’s hardy chuckle as he clapped Drake on the back.

“I’m only six months older than you, Drake. You will be thirty-three soon, my friend,” Liam teased him in return. It felt like old times, yet something was lurking in Liam’s stare. Something that made Drake uneasy, so he just ignored it.

“So, I was thinking. How about we ring in your thirty-third birthday like we celebrated your eighteenth?” Drake suggested, a smirk spreading across his lips.

“You want to steal my dad’s whiskey and get drunk in the maze?” Liam laughed incredulously.

“Don’t forget sneaking past your security detail and pretending they don’t notice when we wobble back wasted,” Drake retorted, making Liam laugh even harder.

“As tempting as that sounds,” Liam shook his head, “I’ll take a raincheck for another time. Unfortunately, I have some obligations to attend to tonight.”

“Obligations at two in the morning?” Drake cocked an eyebrow, “Does this _obligation_ have a name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liam lied, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he turned his attention to the gin and tonic in his hands. Liam was an excellent negotiator, but he couldn’t conceal his tells from his childhood best friend.

“Sure,” Drake’s smirk grew wider, “Well, hypothetically speaking, if this obligation happened to be a woman, would this be a woman you’re dating or something casual?”

Drake couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous as he discussed his friend’s new romantic partner. Their friendship had grown somewhat distant after Drake moved to Scotland to focus on the distillery, but their mutual support persisted. When Liam stepped up to the podium eighteen months ago and announced the dissolution of his marriage, Liam had the condolences of the entire nation, but it was the phone call from his best friend that really helped him bear the life change. The two men had something in common. Though Drake undoubtedly loved Blythe more than Liam ever loved Rose, they shared their failed marriages.

Liam finding someone new was hardly surprising, and Drake was happy that Liam could move on with life. But he envied it. Drake knew his marriage was over. He and Blythe grew apart and had divorce papers to prove it, but even if he knew their love had faded, he didn’t know how to love anyone else.

“Well,” Liam lowered his voice, a genuine smile on his lips as he looked around to make sure that no one listened in, “Dating, I’d say.”

“Why haven’t you told me?” Drake managed to separate the hurt from his voice, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.

“Right now, we just want to keep it between us. Once the gossip begins and the media gets involved, it’s different,” Liam paused when he saw the flash of sadness in Drake’s eyes, and guilt weighed on his heart. He never meant to hurt his friend… Strategically, he avoided sensitive topics and did what he could to help Drake. But sometimes hurt was inevitable. Liam swallowed hard and reluctantly began, “There’s actually something we should talk about.”

Drake’s attention was stolen from Liam by a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair in the distance. Faintly, he recognized her laugh, and despite his attempts to look away, he stared into the crowd until he saw her face.

Blythe was discussing something with a man Drake didn’t recognize, a polite chuckle coming out every now and then again, but the laugh rarely reached her hazel green eyes. She was the picture of elegance in her simple ballgown, but the emerald green color reminded him of the night she took their bachelor party on the tour of Manhattan that changed their lives. She held a drink in her hand- a mojito like the one he’d made for her at the homecoming ball so many years ago. As she pushed her hair behind her ear, her ring finger lacked the familiar twinkle of the engagement ring he’d given her.

 _She’s not mine anymore_ , Drake realized with chilling certainty.

Foolishly, he thought he could go the whole night without seeing her. He thought he could hang on the edge of the party long enough for her to leave the ball, but here she was. Just as beautiful as ever…

“Of course we’d be honored if you shot your film in Valtoria, and if I’m honest, I’m such a Matt Rodriguez fan,” Blythe’s voice grew clearer as she walked closer, and Drake felt paralyzed. Part of him urged him to run before she saw him, but another part chastised him for such a thought. He’d spent the last two years mourning the demise of their relationship. He could handle one encounter at a party.

Still, he didn’t expect Blythe to walk right up to them.

“Liam, I want to introduce-“ Blythe stopped abruptly when she saw Drake, losing her words as she came face-to-face with her ex-husband for the first time since their divorce. “Drake,” she breathed, her eyes washing over him as if trying to prove it was really Drake Walker standing in front of her.

“Blythe,” her name slipped off his tongue as effortlessly as his own would have.

The man accompanying Blythe looked between the former spouses with confusion, unsure what prompted their odd behavior. He stared at Blythe expectantly, still waiting for the introduction she’d offered him earlier in the night, and his burning gaze forced her to snap out of it.

“I’m sorry,” Blythe blushed, pushing her hair behind her ear in the nervous habit Drake recognized, “Matthew Renard, I would like to introduce you to Drake Walker.”

The man held out his hand for Drake to shake, and Drake shook it in return, his eyes not straying from Blythe.

“And King Liam,” Blythe finished her introductions as Matthew dipped into a polite bow to which Liam insisted on shaking his hand, “Matthew is a Hollywood producer who wants to bring his upcoming project to Cordonia.”

Matthew was apparently prepared with a pitch for the king, hoping to get the monarch’s approval on his adaption centering on Cordonia’s founders. He began to launch into his speech and waved his arms too quickly, sending a glass of champagne towards Blythe. She stepped out of the way just in time, saving her ball gown from the liquid but wetting her high heels.

 _“Love, are you alright?”_ Liam instinctively moved towards her, his voice a whisper just for her, and though she laughed off the accidental spill, she didn’t laugh about his reaction. She didn’t laugh about how close he was or that he’d even called her love. It was as if it was all natural…

The moment was small and seemingly insignificant, but it was a sliver of the truth. It was the stolen moment they’d briefly shown the world, and Drake witnessed it.

Nothing could have prepared him for that.

_His best friend and his ex-wife?_

Rationally, it made sense. They’d loved each other once, and they would have probably married if Drake hadn’t been in the picture. For years, Drake knew that Liam was much better suited for Blythe, but he just didn’t think this would happen.

Betrayal wounded him deeply, jealousy and shock fighting for dominance in his mind, but he stayed silent. What he could he say? 

Liam was quick to make Matthew more comfortable, agreeing to accompany him to the bar to replace his drink and further discuss the movie that could potentially bring revenue to his small island nation. Liam excused himself from Drake, and Blythe decided to skip their trip to the bar.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Blythe assured the two men, but Drake saw the truth in her eyes. It was meant for Liam. She was his ‘obligation’ tonight.

Liam looked uneasy about leaving Drake and Blythe together, knowing it was their first reunion since they ended their marriage, but he went anyways with the producer in tow.

In a crowded room, Blythe and Drake were quiet again, and it broke their hearts.

“Hey,” Blythe finally said, her voice mirroring the smile on her lips. It was just a gentle upturn of her lips, but there was so much buried in the expression. She still remembered loving Drake. She remembered the days when his presence made everything better. She remembered thinking she’d spend the rest of her life together. Those memories made moments like this so much harder. Small talk felt cheap and sad, but it was all they had left.

“Hey,” Drake repeated, and he smiled softly back.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Blythe admitted, biting her lower lip.

“It was kind of a last-minute decision,” Drake dug his hands into his pockets.

“I haven’t seen you since…” Blythe trailed off, knowing she didn’t need to finish that sentence. They hadn’t seen each other since her final trip to Scotland, a sad affair marked by the signing of their divorce papers. She knew he hadn’t forgotten. Neither of them would. Looking around the room, she took a deep breath before asking, “I could use some air from the party. There’s a bottle of whiskey hidden on the balcony if you want to come.”

She was trying so hard. She just wanted them to be normal… Even if they couldn’t be lovers, why couldn’t they be friends?

“You’re offering to sneak away from a party for whiskey?” Drake felt an unexpected pang of sadness wash over him. Was that all he was in her story- a whiskey-loving commoner perpetually trying to get out of the party-, or was she just trying to bring back memories?

“It’s _aged_ whiskey,” Blythe waited for his answer with bated breath.

“Blythe…” Drake considered her proposition, unsure how to proceed. A few years ago, leaving a party with the woman he loved would have been a dream, but time was an unpredictable mistress. She’d complicated their love and replaced him with another.

Stepping out with his ex-wife was sure to create rumors, but that wasn’t what fazed Drake. He didn’t know if he could be alone with her, especially when he saw the way she looked at Liam tonight.

“Sure,” he finally answered, and Blythe’s smile faltered at the hesitance in his voice.

The two walked through the party with few words, and they ignored the stares and whispers from the nobles indiscreetly gossiping about their failed relationship. The balcony, as always, was deserted. Liam had been the one to notice that the terraces were seldom used during large gatherings such as these. Most guests were consumed with wanting to mingle and be seen, and neither were prevalent on balconies. Liam utilized this little secret to establish his own escape from balls. As a teenager, he’d find Drake out here and share a flask, and as he grew older, the balcony played host to more intimate moments for the king.

The sharp cold of January greeted the pair when they reached the double doors, and Drake instinctively offered his jacket.

Blythe paused, shock in her eyes, “You’ll be cold.”

“I’m not the one in a sleeveless ballgown,” Drake retorted, holding out his suit jacket for her, and a smile spread across her lips that warmed his heart.

It was scary how easy it was to fall back in. To catch a glimpse of something beautiful that was forever out of reach. Rationally, he knew they’d never be the two kids who fell in love over glasses of whiskey and midnight chats, but rationality couldn’t dictate the secret hope that he was wrong _. Maybe they could find it again._

“I have something to warm us up,” Blythe slid into the jacket, tracing the castle wall until she found the hidden nook. From it, she retrieved a heavy bottle of whiskey, and she held it like a trophy. She presented it to Drake, laughing as she told him, “I think it’s cold enough we can skip the ice.”

He turned the bottle over in his hand, tracing the engraved letters on the label. _Walker Gardens Whiskey_. It was his brand, formerly _their_ brand. He remembered the day they’d picked the name. It was a spring day in Valtoria’s gardens, the breeze carrying their laughter through the estate as they presented silly names until settling on this one. It was during the year of fighting, a moment of peace that gave them both hope.

“I might have exaggerated how aged it is,” Blythe confided, her cheeks growing pink in the night air, “Or that I had glasses.”

Drake found himself smiling, amused to see the familiar silliness in the formal duchess he’d seen only moments ago in the party. Shaking his head, he opened the bottle and offered it back to her, “Ladies first.”

Blythe rolled her eyes playfully, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a swig of the brown drink. It burned down her throat, pooling in a fondly remembered heat in her stomach. Notes of vanilla and smoky oak lingered on her tongue as she pulled the bottle from her lips. Drake watched in silent awe. It had been a long time since he’d last watched her down a whiskey, avoiding the typical hiss at the intensity or cough that most drinkers would have after such a gulp. If being married to Drake Walker taught her anything, it was how to drink whiskey with the best of them.

“Damn good drink,” she laughed, wiping the liquid from her lips as she offered it back to him.

He took a similar gulp, waiting for the numbness of the drink to give him solace. He hoped that the flavor could blind him to the wonder that was Blythe. He wanted to stop smelling the intimate tickle of her perfume. He wanted to stop counting the seconds until she looked back at him with those big green eyes. He wanted to forget the way Liam called her “love” and how happy she looked when he did.

“So…” Drake contemplated his question, the words pouring out of his lips before he could find the right way to ask, “Do you and Liam hide red wine for your rendezvous, or is it always whiskey?”

Blythe gasped for air, her eyes wide as she processed what she’d just heard. Shock was written across her expressive features, and horror flashed in her eyes at the accusation. She knew exactly what he was getting at, and she couldn’t believe he knew.

“I don’t know wha- How did you-?” Blythe stuttered, closing her eyes tightly as she paused to take a breath. After a beat, she looked back with shame, “You figured that out, huh?”

“He called you _love_ … You’re the only one he’s ever called that,” Drake’s mind was momentarily bombarded with memories of the days of Liam and Blythe during her first social season. After marrying Blythe, Drake never thought he’d live to see the day when she was Liam’s ‘love’ again.

Blythe closed her eyes from guilt, “I’m so sorry, Drake. We both are. We never meant to hurt you.”

“Why should you be sorry? He was always the one, right?” Drake took another gulp of the whiskey, “He was the one you should have married in the first place. I was just the wrong choice.”

Blythe stumbled back from the accusation, “Drake… You know that’s not true. You were _never_ the wrong choice.”

Drake laughed incredulously, “Blythe, we’re _divorced_. Our marriage failed. We haven’t even spoken in two years. Marrying me was the wrong choice.”

“No, it wasn’t!” Blythe’s sincerity caught Drake off guard, “I loved you, Drake. I’ve never regretted picking you. We just…” Blythe trailed off, raking her hands through her carefully styled curls, “We didn’t get a fair shot, you know? We got married to heal a country from a terrorist attack. I mean, how do you make a marriage work after that? When we got engaged, we dreamed of moving to a cabin away from the court, and we planned on raising horses and having children. Then we had a duchy, and there were responsibilities. There were nobles and parties and… We never had a chance, Drake.”

“I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with you…” Drake stared out at the palace grounds, amazed by how little had changed, “Now, I live in Scotland and drink whiskey with a golden retriever.”

Blythe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Sounds like the Drake I always knew.”

 _The Drake she always knew_ …

In the brisk moonlight, Blythe looked so unchanged. She was older than the 23-year-old he met in Manhattan, but huddled in his suit jacket with a whiskey-blush on her cheeks, Blythe reminded him of all those alcohol-fueled secret nights under the stars. He wondered how he looked to her now. Was his new suit anything like his old jeans? Had a life of nobility and distilleries permanently altered him, or did his former-self shine through?

“What if we hadn’t changed?” Drake’s whisper was carried to Blythe in the chill of the breeze, “If we were still the same stupid kids that fell in love and ran away to that cabin anyway, what do you think would have happened?”

Blythe smiled sadly, a life she’d never had flashing before her eyes. She could see the little farmhouse in her dreams, a place all their own with stables and a quaint garden. They’d probably have children by now. There would be a little girl who worshipped her daddy and a little boy with Blythe’s eyes. Nights would be spent with laughter and family movies instead of leftover paperwork and loneliness. And she’d still wear those beat up converse and ripped jeans long retired to the back of her closet.

“I don’t know,” Blythe sighed, the truth raw on her lips, “All I know is that I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret marrying you, Drake, and I don’t take back the last six years either. I just… I’m sorry for how they ended.”

Drake didn’t know what he’d wanted her to say, but the resignation in her voice hit him harder than the wind-chill ever could. Fatalism spreading through his veins, Drake’s vision slowly cleared, and he realized he was staring at a different woman than the one he’d proclaimed his vows to so many years ago. There was desolate freedom in that realization, and with shaky breath, Drake opened his heart to the woman he’d once dedicated it to.

“I’m sorry I could never be one of them,” Drake had been holding that apology in for the last six years, and now that it was out, a weight had been lifted off his chest. Despite growing up surrounded by the court, he couldn’t maneuver his way inside. He was a permanent outsider who let down his wife, and he was sorry.

“I’m sorry that marrying me meant you had to become one,” Blythe’s smile was betrayed by a single tear sliding down her cheek. She’d carried the weight of her title with a sense of guilt. The privilege and opportunities bestowed by her title were outweighed by the consequences they’d had on her husband.

She fell in love with Drake because he was always real. He pulled her back to earth and showed her the world outside of the court, and she’d returned the favor by turning his life into a nightmare. Her role as a duchess meant that he was forced to stand before the court, a target with an X on his back. He’d spent his youth turning his self-doubt and insecurities into a hatred for the nobles, and as the Duke of Valtoria, he was primed for their revenge. She couldn’t forgive herself for that, and she hated herself for making him change.

“Maybe we’d still be married if we said all of this two years ago,” Drake laughed to himself, leaning against the cold stone wall as he appraised the night sky.

“Maybe,” Blythe agreed as she pressed her back against the wall and looked up at the stars. Warmth spread through her veins, but she was familiar enough with whiskey to know it was more than the alcohol. She turned to her ex-husband and whispered, “I’ll always love you, Drake Walker.”

As he stared into her eyes, he saw something he hadn’t seen before. There was no agenda in her stare. Honestly, it didn’t even matter if he said it back. It was just a statement of truth. It wouldn’t change their status. At the end of the night, they would still be divorced, and their love affair would remain tragically fated. These six words weren’t meant to inspire a second chance.

Blythe Gardner would always love Drake Walker, and he would always love her. They were destined for divergent paths, but even as they went their separate ways, fate had irrevocably paired them.

“I’ll always love you, too,” Drake replied honestly. Blythe’s content sigh was like music to his ears. Unshackled by the pain of their love and the pressure of their different goals, they were free to just love each other in this moment. It was a love purer than a simple romance, and it extended even past friendship. They couldn’t put it to words. It was just _there_ and always would be.

They drank for a few more minutes, growing more comfortable with each other as they exchanged funny anecdotes about their time apart. When it was time to part, Blythe returned Drake’s jacket and tucked the remaining whiskey in its hiding place. Their different motives separated them in the crowd. Drake was off to find a few more familiar faces before retiring for the night, and Blythe was on a mission to save Liam from the long-winded pitch from the producer she’d introduced him to earlier in the night.

Drake watched her go with a sense of resignation.

Blythe Gardner wasn’t walking towards him anymore. She had someone else now, someone she loved who understood and supported her in ways he couldn’t. As much as it pained Drake to know that special someone was his childhood best friend, Drake was happy for her. She deserved happiness and love, even if it wasn’t from him. Blythe wasn’t the waitress he’d met in New York who was madly in love with him, but their love persisted regardless.

Drake walked away knowing that it was over and finding contentment in the realization.

He loved her, and he would never stop. But he would never be hers again, and he was okay with that.

_After all, they never really had a chance…_


End file.
